dennis' quote of the day

12,07,08. 'don't thank me for being me because i'm you.'

past quotes (dates unavailable)

'it's so easy to control these robots.'

words

humans are social beings; soul is without division.

w/ri/ght/e

i wonder what is most important? am i supposed to be challenged? by work for example? by people? relationships? art? day-to-day happenings? i'm not sure. i know that your job in itself doesn't matter. what you do. it isn't who you are. but what is it that you do that is who you are? i remember. who you are doesn't matter because you are not who you think you are. who you think you are is just an idea, a construct. you need this construct to function socially, for example. otherwise you are just sort of a hovering intangible. i like this idea. it means so much more than functioning socially though. i have to remember how it works. i have to write it down a few times.... 

okay. how does it go? there is one intangible thing that we like to think we are in order to cheat death. that is our ego. our mind. you can find traces of this identity construct in common sayings and beliefs. like in the way people tend to relate to their bodies, for example. most of us 'have' bodies (as opposed to 'being' bodies.) you say 'i have a body' and not 'i am a body.' but if 'you have a body' what is the 'you' that possesses the body? the 'you' is not the body itself. do you see? the 'you' is a "subtle something" (dan millman) that resides in that body while standing carefully beyond it's earthly cycles and limitations. while earth logic dictates that every body dies, this nebulous 'you' creature finds safety outside of the same logic. if 'you' are not your body 'you' might go on existing long after its expiry date. this identity construct, fuzzy as hell,  is our ticket to immortality (dan millman). (i have heard this concept explained before, but am drawing specifically from 'way of the peaceful warrior' here.)  

so back to one of my original questions. 'what is it that we do that is who we are?' well, i guess it's nothing. nothing that we do is who we are. because everything we do is tied to this constructed self, to this ego, to the mind. so who and what are we? we are consciousness. we are everything. ducks and trees, elbows and babies and old people and ancient rocks and water vapour, sunshine and dust. so there is no need to cheat death. we are forever. outside of time. everything. eternal. that's kind of nice. it still feels a bit weird to say that. i mean i understand it, but i haven't "realized" it yet (in the dan millman sense of the word).

if you like this blog or need/want to make sense of it please read 'way of the peaceful warrior.'

hubbabubballoo

it's tuesday morning and i'm still in bed. i had made some plans for myself, to be productive, but i don't feel like accomplishing any of them. productivity has been best realized at work. now that i have none, i can rest. 

you know, i used to write constantly. a year ago for example. i wrote one poem a day. sometimes two. i haven't written anything in months. i think i was more depressed then. passionate and depressed. and haunted by thought. i guess i needed to write images out of them all. i take more pictures when i am content. and subdued. maybe i was working less?

my boyfriend told me a parable about the precarious role of the mind a few days ago. it's a good one. about an old man that is given a powerful gift by a divine source. the gift is a giant. the giant is equipped to perform any task desired by the old man. (i guess he is weak and needs a hand around the house.) but there is a catch. the giant needs to be kept busy at all times because if he has nothing to do he will eat the old man. (hmm? conundrum.) so the old man gets started. 'giant, clean up my kitchen and living room.' in no-time-flat the surfaces are sparkling. 'uh? giant, tend to the garden.' in seconds the giant returns wiping soil from his hands. 'giant, do my laundry and then fetch groceries from the next town.' again, the giant is finished in a flash. the old man thinks to himself, 'hell, this giant looks hungry.' 

the old man prays to his god for advice on how to manage his potentially man-eating giant. 'god, how do i keep his quick hands busy so he will not have time to eat me?' his god tells him to ask the giant to fetch the biggest tree that he can find. the old man obeys. before he knows it a massive tree is towering above his cottage. again he prays to god for further instruction. his prayer is answered. 'giant, climb to the top of the tree. as soon as you are at the top of the tree climb back down. as soon as you are at the bottom climb up. rinse and repeat...'.

the giant obeys. the old man can't be eaten now.

after some time a dizzy and tearful giant approaches the old man. 'old man, i promise i won't eat you, just please, please don't make me climb that tree ever again!' quickly a compromise is struck. the giant and old man coexist functionally ever-after. 

okay, what does it mean? we are the old man and our minds are the giant. sure our minds are powerful and endlessly useful, but left uncontrolled they threaten to swallow whole our entire being. what is the tree? in the original parable the tree represents breath, a means of controlling our minds. 'inhale pink, exhale blue;' 'ohm,' that sort of thing. i'm sure that outside the confines of the original allegory, the tree can mean other things. like meditation for example, or creative writing. 

i am trying to better find my tree.

recommended reading for seekers of the tree:

'the power of now,' eckhardt tolle

'the artist's way,' julia cameron

'way of the peaceful warrior,' dan millman